


Que sera sera

by leo_minor



Category: Bartimaeus - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Memories, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-01 19:31:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16771438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leo_minor/pseuds/leo_minor
Summary: Her eyes saw Bartimaeus and the small, dusty candlelight no more. Instead, there / was a sandy desert cat sitting in the centre of a complex chalk circle, wearing a look of weariness and distrust, wishing to be elsewhere entirely. Opposite the feline, face flickering with the cold moonlight pouring from his window, sat a boy. His clever eyes bore into the cat; its tail swished anxiously. He shifted, bones showing beneath his tanned skin, and said :"I only want to ask a few question."In which Bartimaeus shares his memories of Ptolemy with Kitty





	Que sera sera

For something she'd poured three years of her life into preparing, this could seem a little disappointing.

Oh, and why the pretence ? Why the carefulness ? It _was_ disappointing, bitterly so. Countless hours spent in dusty libraries learning from scraps, receiving glares from every neighbouring table because she dared enter such a place in her _dreadful_ and _insolent_ commoner clothes. Struggling to accommodate an old whimsical man who sent her to every dusty, spider-infested corner of his cramped house to retrieve this or that book, only to make her run back for another one within the minute. Undergoing the cool disdain of every magician she bumped into. Juggling between a job and studies which represented her only hope of escaping her plain, boring life...

All that melodrama to end up sitting in a pentacle across from a lion who, manifestly, had no intention of doing anything other than laze around.

She was claiming the right to be a tad underwhelmed.

The thought must have shown clearly on her face, because when the lion rolled over and caught sight of it, it managed to look frankly amused. This only made her scowl harder.

"Do you _have_ to glare at me like that ?" it asked, settling comfortably onto its stomach. "If anything, I should be the one with the cold, steel stare -"

"Shut up, Bartimaeus."

" -fter all, it was you who roused me from my rest to-"

"I said shut up !"

"-enslave me once again, and..."

"Stop it !"

Her shout was enough to make the djinni cease his ramblings. Its lion form sat up and watched her bury her face in her hands, breathing hard.

She had known beforehand that this would be no piece of cake; the demon was annoyingly stubborn - it was Bartimaeus, for God's sake ! and he hadn't changed a bit. His irritating personality was all part of the summoning two-for-one deal. It had been clear from the start she would have to accomplish quite the feat to get answers out of him; still her frustration was bitter. She swallowed and willed herself to be patient. She needed to think, take herself back to what had enabled her to get this far. What had pushed her to look into the djinni's past and seek it out to question it ?

She opened her eyes. Of course ! His guise.

The fact he wasn't wearing his usual form this time around was a surprise to her, actually. With every encounter she had had with him, he had always, at some point or another, changed back into the dark-eyed, thin Egyptian boy who had sparked her interest in the djinni. It was the shape he seemed most comfortable using, at any given time - he reverted to it, as if it were his natural state. When she had summoned him herself, he had made a big show of intimidating her with a bulkier, darker form - but instead of shrinking back into his master of old, he had shifted into a lion and lounged on the floorboards comfortably, refusing to answer a single of her questions.

Come to think of it, there was something a little odd about the appearance he was wearing, other than the fact it wasn't the one she had been hoping for. Was it the fur ? Its shade ? Not quite; the candlelight around the pentacle danced on each strand almost naturally, despite the overwhelmingly foreign aura the demon possessed. There was definitely something bothering her - if she could pinpoint it...

The feline, which had been feigning disinterest for the past few minutes, carelessly liking between its claws, finally looked up and caught her staring. Its muzzle somehow shifted to show an air of outrage.

"What, is there something on my face ?"

Its face... Every detail wasn't easy to make out in this light, but the flickering of a few candles wouldn't be enough to deter her. Her eyes flickered from its ears to the top of its head, inspecting every hair for some kind of abnormality, looking into its eyes - and receiving a scalding look of impatience right back - anxiously scanning the lion for something that might have put her off, or the lack thereof...

The lack thereof, she repeated to herself, and broke into a wide, winning grin. Something was missing ! Something important, something defining, which meant she'd found the source of her curiosity at last.

"Why," she asked, "have you taken the form of a lioness ?"

Bartimaeus looked a little taken aback by that one. He seemed to frown. "I like to use a diverse form of guises, I'll have you know ! To distract myself from the tolling you humans force upon me, y'see. Takes the edge off the whole slavery thing."

But Kitty wasn't going to buy it, not there and then - if the djinni had chosen to deflect, she had to be on the right track.

"No, all the forms I've seen you take were all male. You naturally veer towards it, consciously or not. So what's the difference here ? It's the mane, isn't it ? You dropped the mane."

Silence.

She hadn't been expecting it - it was a little unnerving, actually. The demon always bit back - he had a tongue as sharp as hers, if sharper - but this time, he made no move to answer. The only sign he had heard her at all was the tension rippling off him. She had hit a nerve. He no longer faced her; his head was turned towards the window, and his eyes filled with the night sky. There was a far-away look in the black of them that she just couldn't place. It made her hesitate a little before she spoke again.

"Bartimaeus ?" She felt the need to keep her tone soft, as if speaking only a little harshly might provoke an avalanche. "Is there a reason you don't wear a mane ?"

It sounded like a stupid, mundane question, but she had a feeling, a hunch, that it held some kind of significance. She certainly hoped she was right - she had nothing else to hold onto.

She was rather sure what she heard next was the lion sighing.

"Does it matter ?" the djinni replied, his tone flat and out of character. It sounded nothing like the boisterous and crowing tone that practically defined his essence, and Kitty found herself deeply unsettled. "Does it really ? To you, or to me ? I've been around for thousands of years, and will be for thousands more. Once we're done here you'll forget all about me and this pleasant little chat and go on living your life. How can this possibly be of any importance to you ?"

"I think it means something," she said, her tone more confident than she felt. "To you, in any case. How you appear on Earth matters to you - that's why you always shift back into the Egyptian boy, from three years ago. He means something to you, doesn't he ? I've been reading..." Aware she was moving away from the present subject, she blinked and tried to focus. The djinni was drifting; she needed to create a link between them (and hopefully spare herself a bunch of philosophical monologues in the process.) "I'd like to know why. To understand."

The lion blew air through its nose. It looked almost bemused, in a melancholy way - like he'd heard it all before, from someone else, a long time ago. It meant she was on the right track, following the right footsteps.

"Your guises are important, and this one is no different. There has to be a reason -"

She was cut short by a laugh. It took her a few seconds to realise the bouncing, harsh cackle that reverberated all around her was coming from Bartimaeus - it was almost impossible to place, anywhere and everywhere at once. Her voice died in her throat. It wasn't a very nice sound; in fact, it had an ugly, forced ring to it. She instantly hated it.

"Of all my life," the djinni began, each word carefully weighed, "of all my exploits, of all of my services to masters of renown, of my hundreds of years of existence...you summoned me to ask my why I dropped the mane off my appearance ? Come on, Kitty. I expected more of you."

She knew perfectly well where the demon was trying to lead her, and refused to rise to the taunt. "Yes. And since you keep going around the question, I'm going to assume I'm right. It isn't random, there's a reason. I want to know what it is. If it's of such little importance, you might as well tell me."

Discontent showed immediately on the lion's face. And in an instant it was wiped off clean, to be replaced with heavy lassitude. Its fur lost its shine; its eyes seemed sadder still. All of a sudden he looked very tired indeed.

"No", it said, pawing weakly in circles inside its prison. She waited for another explanation to come, but there was none. In the room only its feline footfalls sounded, muffled by the wooden floor.

"No...?" she asked, a little disbelieving. This wasn't what she'd been looking for. Bartimaeus was always confrontational to a fault, and yet there wasn't a trace of conflict in the room. It felt a lot like failure to her; her inability to get a straight answer out of him proved she had just wasted three, precious years of her life building up a conversation which had been doomed from the start.

Kitty decided she was very, very angry.

"No. That's it ? Three years I've studied to talk to you, to get some answers, to try and understand, and you won't even let me try !" Her voice was shifting in pitch with each word, scratching her throat. Her face felt very hot, and she realised she was on the verge of tears. She wiped them away angrily and turned on the demon. "I'm in charge here; I summoned you ! I command you to tell me !"

A sting of shame replaced the anger and made her stop in her stride. She blinked, going over her last few words. She met the djinni's eyes with grim realisation; she, in her desperation, had sounded just like Mandrake and his bunch. An apology died on her tongue; she chose to hang her head rather than voice it. She'd just succeeded in proving she was no better than the people she hated.

Her shouts had their effects on Bartimaeus; or maybe it was her agitation, which she could no longer hide. He stopped padding around his pentacle and shifted back into his preferred form : the Egyptian boy, whose name she'd toiled so hard to find. The sight of it lit a spark of hope in her breast. Breathing quietly, she watched him sit cross-legged opposite her and rub his eyes. The change of guise brought back her determination, and she tried to reach out again.

"Look, I-"

"Leave it alone, Kitty," he said quietly, gazing at his knees. His eyes shifted to the window again - he seemed to search the glass for a glint of recognition, a lost something he was grasping for. He didn't find it. "It's best to leave the past in the past."

"It has something to do with Ptolemy, doesn't it ?"

She'd spoken on a whim, inspired by his words, fuelled by her research, dropping her tip-toe attitude in a hope to make him react; immediately she knew she'd made a mistake.

Goosebumps spread across her skin. The peaceful candle-borne warmth of the room was sucked away in an instant - it filled with harsh cold that spread to her bones. She shivered. In his pentacle, the boy sat perfectly still, eyes closed. Something about his rigidity was incredibly worrying. His lips parted and he let out a small, almost imperceptible sigh; with it rose a strong, biting wind that blew Kitty's hair back and forced her to shield her face. She kept her eyes screwed shut, eyes filled with the wind's menacing howl, and let her shaking hands fall to her knees.

"Bite your tongue," the djinni said. His voice held neither cruelty nor anger, but for some reason, it struck a flare of fear inside her. "Don't pretend to know him, or me."

"I..." Kitty swallowed painfully - her throat felt tight and dry. "I just said his name ! I don't _know_ anything, that's why I wanted..."

She looked up at him, still in the centre of his pentacle, ankles crossed, hands on his knees. He was gazing at the window again, into the glass; she glanced at it and found his reflection, face blank and eyes sad. If an otherworldly quality hadn't hung around him, in his gestures and movements, he might have seemed human. Then he looked right at her and the moment was gone.

"A name is a powerful thing," the djinni was saying. "A name can do all sorts of things. Names have a history. They awake memories. It's best to leave them alone."

But Kitty wasn't listening; she was looking at him now - not only looking, but seeing as well. She saw the very light cluster of freckles around his nose, the two small moles on his neck, just below the jaw; she saw the strand of hair in his bangs that was just a little longer than the rest, and the small scars here and there - under his chin, behind his ear, on his hands. She saw the glint of life in his eyes - so foreign - and the detail of every knuckle, the careful curve of his lips. She saw and understood that she had been right : an attention to detail so careful didn't lie. It carried a sentiment of affection - no, of _lov_ _e_ \- that had survived centuries, and would survive a hundred more. She no longer doubted the fact that Bartimaeus and Ptolemy had possessed a bond unlike any other, because it could be no other way.

To the part of her that wasn't captivated by her sighting, it was a little disheartening - and it might have seemed selfish, in the light of her discovery, but she was more dispirited than ever before. Her plans had been to call upon the djinni's experience with Ptolemy, their exclusive bond of trust, and get his help by repeating this pattern and putting men and djinn on the same level, following in Ptolemy's footsteps. Now, however, it was clear to her that no such thing would happen. There was no way she, or anyone else, could rival with their relationship - it was unique, and impossible to replicate. She saw in the djinni's eyes that nothing could ever replace the boy he mourned and would mourn for centuries more.

And that's about when the piercing pain in her head began.

Her hands flew to her forehead, palms pressed flat against it. She could feel her skull pulsating under the skin. She looked up at Bartimaeus, eyes quickly watering; he only stared back at her, his eyes clearly stating something along the lines of "you asked for it, didn't you ?" Heart hammering against her ribs with newfound fear, she scrambled to find the cause of the knife twisting around in her brain. The pentacle, however, bore neither smudges nor mistakes. She came around, ready to yell something heated at the demon, but was blinded before she could open her mouth. Her eyes saw Bartimaeus and the small, dusty candlelight no more. Instead, there _was_

_A sandy desert cat sitting in the centre of a complex chalk circle, wearing a look of weariness and distrust, wishing to be elsewhere entirely. Opposite him, face flickering with the cold moonlight pouring from his window, sat a boy. His clever eyes bore into the cat; its tail swished anxiously. He shifted, bones showing beneath his tanned skin, and said :_

_"I only want to ask a few question."_

_And although his tone was calm and his words carefully chose amongst the rich repertoire of his intelligence, hunger shone in his eyes - brighter than the ego of the greatest fallen kings, stronger than the greed of a self-driven, avaricious man, his desire for knowledge was a light in the night._

_"I won't enslave you, you understand; I'm simply looking for some answers, none of which I can get alone."_

_The cat abandoned its sitting position and stretched, keeping its yellow eyes fixed on the boy. None of the distrust had worn away._

_"I know," the boy said, inching a little closed to the edge of his pentacle, "that you've heard these words perhaps a hundred times before, from men and women seeking your power for their own benefits. However, I'm trying to change that. I'd like to learn from you and about you - and I think there is no better start than a conversation."_

_"Preposterous," the cat stated, breaking its vow of silence. "Ridiculous and no doubt a complete and utter lie."_

_It looked into the boy's wide, dark eyes, and slowly shifted back onto the floor, lying on its side. Resignation rang in his voice like a bell._

_"Ask your questions."_

And then she _saw_

_The boy whose eyes shone with intelligence, sitting on the edge of a small balcony. Thin fingers clutched the embroidered rug beneath him absent-mindedly. Besides him coiled and uncoiled a snake - the Egyptian sun reflected on its emerald scales, the light tracing the lazy curves of its form. Both regarded the city beneath them peacefully._

_"You did a terribly stupid thing," the snake said quietly. Its head tilted towards the room spread behind them; on the tiled ground was a set of two circles. Chalk had been carefully smudged in one place, rupturing the pattern of symbols around their inner curves. Lidless eyes observed the scene with silent befuddlement.  
_

_The boy didn't answer. The only sign he'd heard the snake at all was the small smile that now graced his lips. He closed his eyes and breathed in, exhaling quietly. The city's market rustled feet below._

_"I could have pounced on you," the snake continued, discontent with its companion's silence. "I could have ripped you to shreds, broken your neck."_

_"But you didn't," the boy said, and it was final, like there was nothing more to discuss. He turned his face towards the sun, his smile turning into a happy grin. Sunlight made his skin shine, casting gentle shadows beneath his eyelashes. "I need you to put your trust in me. And for that I must put my trust in you, Rekhyt."_

_Eyes still shut, eyelids warm with the sun's gentle kiss, he extended a slender arm towards the snake. His palm was open, beckoning._

_Unblinking eyes regarded him for a moment, and slowly very slowly, the serpent unravelled and came forward. It entwined itself between the boy's fingers, and curled around his forearm._

_They watched the sun set in quiet companionship._

Night fell and her pupils flared _and_

_"Ptolemy."_

_The sun was at its summer high, light pouring through the library's many windows. Under the shadows their wooden frame cast, at a small and busy table, sat the boy, scribbling something down with ill-concealed fervor. He didn't pause nor look up, absorbed too deeply by his work to be aware of the outside world._

_"Ptolemy !"_

_A honey-furred cheetah leapt onto his table, landing on a neat pile of parchment and books the boy had discarded. Pages flew and volumes tumbled, echoing against the library's stone walls. The boy watched his work slip out of his grasp and onto the floor with mild resignation, and met the feline's eyes._

_"Rekhyt."_

_The cheetah fell onto its side and settled comfortably, skilfully ignoring the renewed fall of rolled up vellum. Its tail flickered and caught the boy's wrist in a gentle touch. It was rewarded with an acknowledging smile._

_"You haven't eaten since yesterday," the cheetah stated, "nor slept in two days. You're being unreasonable." A pause; its tail continued its pendulum movement. "I worry."_

_The boy's dark eyes lit up with amusement; he caught its tail as it flicked by and let the coarse fur slip through his fingers. "My studies," he began, taking the time to select each word with careful thought, as though he were reformulating something he had said many times before, "are of utmost priority in my life. You know that." His eyes settled on the remainder of his notes, and his gaze hardened with renewed energy. "There's so much to write about, and so little time. So many questions to be asked ! Bearing the risk of boring you, Rekhyt, I have to find my answers."_

_The cheetah studied him a moment; the slight tremor in his fingers from writing for too long, the bright and daring grin on his lips that the mere thought of his studies had summoned, his frailness - but a guise that hid a lust for knowledge that ran deep in his veins. His eyes, which, at his young age already resembled those of a philosopher._

_There was a hint of displeasure in the cheetah's gaze when he finally spoke. "I would never bore," he said gravely, "of your company."_

_The boy's eyes softened almost imperceptibly. "Very well", he said, reaching down to retrieve his work from the floor to stack it on the table in as orderly a pile as possible. "I shall take a break, so we may walk through the market and find some anchovy bread - after you answer this one last question. Could you describe to me, in as much detail as possible, the pull of a summon that rouses you from the Other Place ?"  
_

_Grateful to hear his worries acknowledged, the djinni changed into a young Egyptian servant and, as he began to explain, gestured wildly with his hands. The boy laughed and took note of every statement. Comfort radiated from their exchange, as strong almost as the light of the sun above them._

She blinked, and her ears tingled _with_

_"Rekhyt."_

_The sand lion gazing out of the window poured all of its majesty into ignoring the call._

_"Rekhyt..." the boy repeated, a little softer this time. Outside, the afternoon was slipping away, casting the room into an orange glow. He walked up to the window and stood besides his companion, sharing for a moment his view of the city, engulfed by the ardent sunset. "You must see reason... I trust no one more than I trust you, my friend. It is the only excuse I have for placing you in this situation. I wish for the war to be over as soon as can be, lest time be wasted."_

_The lion shook its head and let out a growl of reluctance. Still it refused to meet the boy's eyes, as if they might hold the power to lure him in. As far as it was aware, they did._

_"I cannot leave you," it argued, "not at a time like this. The threats on your life will continue to come, and I must be there to face them !"_

_The boy tutted. "As you well know, Affa and Penrenutet will be by my side to ensure my safety -"_

_"But I will know nothing of it !" the lion bit back. "You could be dead, for all I'm aware, and I'll still be busy rustling up sand storms and biting down mindless imps. It's a matter of too much importance ! I cannot leave your safety in hands other than my own."_

_From its expression it was clear he would have expressed himself in stronger terms if the situation had allowed it, but despite its desperation, it kept its tongue courteous. The boy's presence by its side appeased its language, but not its distress._

_"You worry too much, my dear Rekhyt," he replied lightly, as if the subject were trivial at best. He seemed perfectly peaceful. "The biggest threat to my safety at this time is my cousin's court - if we, and by that I admit I mean_ you, _are to lend our services to his army, we might secure some time."_

_The lion opened its mouth - not doubt to protest - but the boy ran a hand down its spine, thin fingers pressing into its thick fur. Its mouth closed and it looked away, eyes unhappy still._

_"I understand," the boy murmured, "how you feel, and I too am reluctant to watch you leave my side. Still, I must ask you to. And hear this : I am close to my goal. When you return, I believe I will have acquired the necessary knowledge to settle the scores."_

_The boy sank to one knee besides the lion and seized its head between his hands, turning it to face him. Inches away from a beast of formidable strength and a creature of formidable power, he showed no fear. The lion nuzzled against his thin arms weakly; he leaned in and placed a kiss on its forehead. They shared a look of a thousand unspeakable words._

_"Come back soon, Rekhyt," he said._

Darkness filled her eyes.

_"How was the world ?"_

_The boy sat on the edge of his room's window, gazing down over the sleeping city. By his side, an arm slung around his waist and head on his shoulder, rested a young scribe, his dark braided hair shimmering under the moonlight._

_"Good," the scribe muttered against his dark skin, eyes shut and voice faintly muffled by their position. "The world is good. Returning to your side, however ? Better."_

_The boy scoffed kindly and placed a hand atop of his companion's. "As glad as I am to see you return, I expect a little more detail, my dear. You spend so much of your time moaning about your lack of freedom, and when I give you free reign, you return only to speak of how relieved you are it is over !"_

_The scribe blew air out of his nose gently. "Alright, alright ! I'll tell you about my journey." He paused, shifting so his cheek was pressed to the boy's shoulder instead of his forehead. "It was... quite the experience, really. Usually I only get to see one part of the world at a time, and for as little time as possible -" The boy nudged his chuckle right out of his throat. He gave a childlike pout. "Fine. You giving me the opportunity to explore is a gift I'm very grateful for. Seriously ! Don't laugh. It has given me much to ponder. There are so many different peoples, all living in different conditions... Most live without magic, but few are peaceful. Fewer still actually seem at peace with themselves; I had no idea humans had the ability, to be honest."  
_

_"Thank you, Rekhyt," the boy laughed, "for your profound insights." Gently he shifted and dislodged the scribe from his side - he didn't, however, let go of his hands. "Would you like to hear mine ?"  
_

_Had he wished to, the scribe could not have refused, for the look in the boy's eyes rivalled the shine of a hundred suns. He emitted an energy that, in the moonlight, almost made him glow. He flung his legs over the window's border and stood before the room. Without waiting for an answer, he began to pace, unmasked enthusiasm lighting up his flushed face._

_"I have," he spoke up," at last collected all the accounts I required from Affa - and most importantly the knowledge I've been chasing down so desperately. All that is missing as of now is, of course, you. I can finally say, my dear, that I am finally in capacity and ready to follow you to the Other Place !"_

_The scribe shifted to face him a little better. Clearly underwhelmed, he said : "You're an idiot."_

_The boy opened his mouth, but was neatly cut short. "A complete fool. No better than two years ago when you summoned me for the first time."_

_He crossed his thin arms, feet falling still over cold patterned tiles. He bit his lip and allowed a faint frown to appear on his face. "Would you care to explain ?" There was no anger nor blame in his voice, but the thinnest glimmer of disappointment showed in his eye._

_The scribe must have caught it; he sighed tiredly and pressed a hand to his forehead. "You have no regards towards your personal safety. All you ever think of are your studies. Sometimes you forget to eat for a week. You hardly sleep. You lose sight of your nature, but no matter what you do, no matter how much you know, you're still human ! Following me..." He breathed in sharply and straightened to look him in the eye. "It's madness, and will most certainly kill you. You're not a being of essence, who knows what will happen to you if you go into the Other Place ! I know you want to make a gesture... But it shouldn't rest on your shoulders ! You shouldn't have to go through with this just to make us for centuries of mistreatment that you are not responsible for !"  
_

" _Someone has to start !" the boy cried out, losing his cool at last. "Someone has to be the first ! If not me, who will bear the burden ? If I do not face the risks, then will anyone in the future ? Someone needs to become a pillar, so their example may be followed, so centuries of wrongness may be put to an end ! The relationship between djinni and man does not have to be the way it is, Rekhyt, and I despair to see it continue down this path. If putting my life on the line is the only way to fix crooked history and start anew, I have no hesitations."_

_And his passion was such that he seemed taller, older, stronger than he ever could be. The room's light appeared to be sucked away into him. Heat rippled off his dark skin, and he looked more ardent, more fiery than ever before. Overwrought, he had unconsciously made fists of his hands - the gesture gave him a childlike fierceness. The world outside had quieted, as if Alexandria itself was paying respect to his words. Candlelight flickered in the dark of his eyes._

_For a moment the djinni was silent - transfixed, his mouth had frozen into a grimace of sorrow and he stared from behind his mask. And suddenly, as though the sight had become too much to handle, he lowered his eyes and looked away, eyebrows knitted together. In his sadness shone something so otherworldly and so very alien that he seemed entirely out of place._

_The boy's skin cooled slowly; he blew quietly away the remainder of his heat and closed his eyes to a moment - when they opened again his pupils were round and clear. The storm had died away. He went to kneel before the djinni and placed a hand on his knee._

_"It does us no good, my friend, to argue this way," he whispered. His eyes tried to catch his, and only patience arose in the face of failure. A knee pressed to the cold, hard tiles of his bedroom, he waited._

_The djinni swallowed, lips twitching into an unhappy smile. "You have done so much already, for me, for the other djinn you summoned. Never have you been cruel, nor spoken to us coldly, nor treated us as anything other than your equals. You never bound our freedom. To me, these two years have been..." He paused to close his eyes and give a tiny shake of his head, answering a question only he knew of. "I don't want to lose you, Ptolemy."  
_

_"I understand, and I am proud to have earned your trust and respect during the past years. However, I cannot eternally be there for you, Rekhyt. You yourself said it well enough - I am only human, and in no way immortal. What will become of you after me will be out of my control, but I have the opportunity to build a world in which no harm will come to you, or at the very least veer man towards it. You have to let me go through with this." He paused, and a smile ghosted over his lips. "Besides, once through the Gate, I will be under your control. And I trust no one more with my life than I do you."_

" _Rekhyt_." Ptolemy's voice was loud and good-hearted in her head. " _If you are sick of the sight of me after all this time, the solution is simple. Do not respond to my call._ "

" _It's up to me ?"_ A question he had no doubt never asked before.

" _Of course. The Other Place is your domain. If you do see fit to call me over, I shall be most honoured."_

"Few decisions I regret as much as the one to accept his request." The djinni sounded very tired. "It was his lifelong dream and aspiration, and I bet it was a spectacular experience - to me, it remains a memory worth the risk. What wasn't were the results of his journey, and what he was left with when he returned to Earth." Sight returned to her slowly, the sudden glow of candlelight causing her eyelids to tingle. Her body felt rigid, as though she had been sitting on the wooden floor, cross-legged and still, for years. She wiggled the edge of her fingers and was flooded with relief when her hand responded, when blood began its flow again.

She felt very raw with all that had transpired, right there, right in front of her eyes. It had been so vivid, so clear, that she could almost have been there, smelling the spices that floated up from the market, feeling the sun's hot touch. She had felt out of place, watching djinni and boy share a life, but no more than she did now, sitting across from Bartimaeus. The silence between them was deafening. She felt the need to fill it, say something, but no words seem to fit in. She couldn't muster up the strength to speak to the dark-skinned boy hunched opposite her, the perfect twin of the one who had been, moments ago, dancing under her eyelids. It was like she was gazing at a ghost.

"There you go," the djinni said suddenly, dusting off his knees with a careless hand. "You wanted to know. You know. You wanted to find out why it's completely ridiculous to even suggest some kind of equality between magicians and djinn, or some kind of bond, or cooperation of any kind..." His voice was rising just a little, with each new word. "Ptolemy was the only one who ever thought to try, and he was unique. He wanted to make a gesture that would change the world; instead it took his life and changed nothing. Any magician to whom you might mention his name will call him a dreamer, a fool who never did anything of much use to anyone - his writing was lost. The only thing left of his experience and of his redress is, well, me."

"What happened to him ?" she managed to croak out. Her throat was dry and her tongue heavy, but her will had returned to back her up. She had found every answer, had seen the whole narrative through - the only thing that was left was the ending.

"Well I guess it would seem petty of me to keep that bit from you after showing you the rest," he said dryly, smiling a sour smile. it softened, just a little, when he set his eyes on her. The power they held was so foreign, so strange, that she unconsciously held her breath. "I have to hand it to you, though. You found a way in, through me. People like you are rarer than you know."

He took her silence as an acknowledgement and, with a wave of a hand, plunged her into darkness once again.

_Pinkish light flooded the scene. Stone steps led up to a grand, towering statue that bore condemning eyes. No windows. No air. Tight. Safe only for a few minutes, at best. Just enough time to catch your breath._

_On the steps, the boy, or what was left - wrinkles that hid more wrinkles and marked his skin like parchment. Crimson soaked his thin linen tunic and dripped quietly onto the ground. Outside brewed djinn and marids alike, storming on with ferocity that reverberated inside the sanctuary. In front of the bronze doors, a lion, mane singed, flank torn, defiantly facing the battle to come. Something in his eyes betrayed the futility of the action.  
_

_All was already lost._

_Behind him, the boy coughed up blood and croaked out a name, attempting to straighten his curved, shaking form into sitting. The lion turned around and went to him, offering no lip, no snide._

_"I believe this is the end of my path," the boy said, and his chest trembled with the ghost of a laugh, as though his demise were the most humorous thing in the world._

_The lion gave a protesting growl. "Don't be ridiculous. Battle's not over. I can take them on, and then I'll get us out of here. Somewhere warm would be best. You fancy Persia ?"_

_"I don't think I'm going anywhere, Bartimaeus."_

_The lion flinched and looked away, settling with staring above his shoulder. A drop of blood ran down his master's chin. He seemed at peace._

_"I should have seen them coming," the djinni muttered. "They wouldn't have stricken us, we could have fled. I shouldn't have worn this ridiculous mane, we could have avoided the ambush -"_

_"Rekhyt, my friend," the boy spoke with difficulty, reaching for him, "Do not blame yourself for things our of your control. In fact, do not blame yourself at all - and if you must, save it for later. It wouldn't be a very fulfilling way to say goodbye."_

_Something slammed into the bronze doors behind them._

_"I'm not saying goodbye," the djinni said, with a brand of desperate stubbornness which suited him little. Even the dark, shaking hand that smoothed down his matted fur could not soothe him. "If you won't let me move you, I'm staying right here."_

_The boy shook his head, suddenly very gentle. "I can't let you do that."_

_The lion gave a derisive snort and turned back towards the quivering doors, legs braced, ready to pounce. He gave a defying roar that shook the sanctuary's walls, doubling the activity outside. There was another bang, and the doors began to give in._

_"Rekhyt," he said again, sounding much more serious. There was something harsh in the way his name was pronounced. "I_ can't _let you do that."_

_This time, the djinni caught the implication and spun around, alarmed. The door suffered another blow - instinctively, he turned towards it. Trapped between friend and foe, he found no strength to protest._

_"Thank you," the boy was saying, as the doors shook and light pierced into the edifice, "for bearing with me for these past two years, for teaching me much about your kind, for sharing with me what the link between djinn and men can become..." Hearing the rumble from outside, he willed himself to concentrate, despite the colour draining from his face."Thank you for your trust and your companionship." A grin appeared amongst the wrinkles, and lit up his paling face in that unique, fiery manor. "The only way I can pay you back is to protect you as you have faithfully protected me... It's time to go, Rekhyt."_

_The door finally gave in._

_Fuelled by pure terror, the lion launched forwards and ripped into the mass breaking into their walls. Behind him, eyes shut, the boy spoke the first words of Dismissal. The lion's tail, the frizzle of his mane, the very tip of his fur all turned to steam - he began to dissolve._

_"No !" he shouted, thrashing at his enemies with fading claws. He tried to shut out the sound of the boy's voice, calmly calling out the Dismissal's second verse. It was all he could do to keep himself together - his body seemed to lose its consistency, and it quivered under newfound light. He twisted around, aware now there was nothing more he could do._

_"Ptolemy," he said weakly, gazing into the boy's dark, bright eyes one last time. He raised a dark hand a gave a little salute, grinning crookedly at his companion with all the strength he had left._

_He spoke the last words of Dismissal._

_Bitter, faint, grieving, the djinni was forced to accept his master's last wish._

When she mustered the strength to open her eyes, the boy was gone.

Bartimaeus had changed back into a lion in the time she'd spent trembling on the floorboards, head spinning, nausea making her sea-sick on solid grounds. When he noticed her looking at him, he sat to face her.

"I'm sorry, Kitty", he told her softly - there was a touch of pity in his voice that made her tingle with unease. She understood where it was coming from.

"I'm sorry", she said, for an entirely different reason.

"Me, too."

Bartimaeus was smiling sadly in her direction. She knew his words weren't meant for her.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading ! feedback of any kind is most welcome.


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